Broken Glass
by starkanium
Summary: "Tony…" Clint started hesitantly. "Why don't you like to be handed things?" Tony explains to Clint why he doesn't like being handed things. A little Clint/Tony bonding. No slash. Warning: Includes abuse, contains somewhat dark themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Broken Glass**

**Warnings: **This could possibly be found as dark.

* * *

Tony had been working in his lab for days now, not once coming up to eat, drink, or socialize. It was getting a little ridiculous and Clint would have no more of it. He kind of missed Tony, to be honest. It was quiet and there were no snarky comments being thrown around left and right. There were no ideas for pranks being pitched back and forth between them and Clint was getting a little antsy without his daily dose of tricks. So, keeping all of that in mind, he headed to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle and a sandwich. He went downstairs to Tony's lab and easily got access.

"I'm a little busy here. If the city is not being swarmed by aliens, leave," he deadpanned, not looking up from whatever he was tinkering with.

"Tony, you need to eat," Clint stated.

"Aw, is Feathers actually caring about something?" he asked with a smirk. Only then, did he look up. "I'm, not hungry. If I was, I would come and eat something. Thanks for your consideration, though." And with that, Tony ducked back down and started typing away on the computer.

"Seriously Tony, you haven't eaten for days." Clint took a few steps in Tony's direction.

"You sound like Pepper. Don't worry about me, it's been like…" he glanced at his watch. "Four days. The human body can last three weeks without food, so I'm fine. Now, if you'd leave me to my work…"

"No more bullshit, man. Just take the damned food." Clint held out the sandwich, but Tony only eyed it, eyes widening slightly. "Seriously? Will you at least take it? You can just throw it out as soon as I leave but at least humor me," he growled.

Tony simply let his eyes roam over it.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm dealing with a freaking two year old," he mumbled angrily. "Take it. Take the sandwich."

"I don't like to be handed things," Tony said with a flat voice.

"Well, get over it. Take the sandwich from my hand."

"Just put it down, I'll pick it up later."

"Take it."

"No."

"Take it," Clint insisted.

"No."

"Damn it, Tony. You're impossible."

"What can I say? I'm stubborn."

"Obviously." Clint started inching the sandwich toward Tony's hands that were lying on the computer keyboard. His eyes flicked from Tony's eyes, to the sandwich, to his tense hands. With a quick move that only Clint and Natasha were capable of, Clint shoved the sandwich in his hands. Despite his fast reflexes, it missed Tony's hands by an inch. Tony's hands were pulled up to his chest, and he was out of the chair, slowly backing away.

"How did you just evade my move? You're fast, I'll give you that," Clint chuckled. The look on Tony's face wiped the smile off his face, though.

Tony was backing away carefully, taking fast yet quiet steps away. His expression could only be described as pure terror.

"Tony…" Clint started hesitantly. "Why don't you like to be handed things?"

If it were possible, Tony's face paled even more. A sheen of sweat developed on his face, making his skin glimmer and appear even sicklier.

"Just a… Just a peeve," he replied shakily.

"It's definitely not _just a peeve," _he said in a low voice. "Talk to me."

"I'd rather not."

"It'll be good for you. I won't tell anyone if it makes you feel better." Clint was using the softest voice that he could use. It was the one that he usually reserved for pets. It was the most comforting voice that he possessed.

"I just don't want to tell anyone."

"You don't trust me?" Clint questioned innocently. It would help turn the tables in his favor.

"Don't turn this on me," he growled. "Of course I trust you. I just… Don't want to tell anyone."

"Please." Clint sat down in a nearby chair, showing Tony that he wasn't going anywhere.

Tony's petrified face softened and he fell in a boneless heap on the couch. He let out a frustrated sigh. "When I was little, my dad…" he trailed off. "My dad wasn't the nicest guy. He wouldn't ever be home and if he was, he would be drunk. I mean it. I saw him more times drunk than I did sober. Anyway, he used to drink his beer and as soon as the bottle was empty, he would smash it on something. He'd call me over…" He let out a shaky breath.

Clint did not like where this was going.

"He'd call me over and shove the bottle in my hands. He'd say, '_Take this or I'll go get mommy_.' I didn't know any better and I didn't want him to hurt my mom. I mean, she wasn't the best lady out there, either, but I figured it was better me than her." His whole body was shaking by that time. From anger or sadness, Clint would never know. Maybe it was a bit of both.

"So, I'd have these sharp shards of glass in my hands and my dad would come over and cup my hands in his. At first, it was really gentle and almost felt like he actually could be my father. Like he actually cared. Damn, I couldn't have been more wrong. Anyway, he'd be sitting there, holding my hands gently, and I'd almost forget the glass that was sitting in my hands. Then, after about five seconds of just doing that, he'd squeeze his hands as tight as possible around mine. The glass would cut into me, but I wouldn't flinch or cry because I needed to be strong in front of him." He stood up and started pacing, hatred emanating from him.

"He'd just laugh as blood poured out of my hands. He'd laugh sadistically. He enjoyed every second of it. The first time he'd ever done it, he took me to the hospital after and told them that I fell hands first into a pile of glass. They stitched up my hands and we went home. I thought that was the first and last time that he would do that. Again, I was wrong." A single tear ran down his cheek.

"He did it almost every time I saw him. '_Take this or I'll go get mommy.' _And I'd take it. He'd squeeze my hands. But after that first time, he'd just stitch my hands up himself. It would be too suspicious if he took me back to the hospital again. Around the fifth time that he'd ever done it, he broke my right hand. Just crushed it like it was an ice cube. The glass got pretty deep that time, too. Of course, we didn't go to the hospital and that time, he didn't bother to stitch me up. I did it myself, making sure that I had it wrapped properly so that the bones wouldn't shift."

Tony had Clint crying. Clint didn't _do _crying. Multiple tears rolled down his cheeks at the thought of the lively Tony Stark being hurt by a man that everyone adored. A man that was _supposed_ to be there for him, through thick and thin. A man that was _supposed_ to be Tony's role model. A man that was _supposed_ to be great and loved.

"Steve always talks about him like he was a hero, but I never understood what the hell he could possibly be rambling about." Tony hadn't made eye contact with Clint yet. His back was to him the whole time. "Do you understand now? Why I don't like to be handed things?" He turned around to face Clint, his eyes cold, void of all emotion.

"No, Tony, I don't," Clint said. Tony's eyes widened in shock. He thought for sure that after the pouring out of his heart that he would understand. "I won't hurt you. No one will hurt you. Howard's gone, he can't hurt you. I don't understand why you wouldn't take a simple sandwich from my hands," he explained carefully.

"I don't want to be hurt again. People come and go in my life and I'm sick of it. Pepper and Rhodey are honestly the only ones that have stayed with me forever. I'm not sure if Jarvis counts, but he's been there for me too. I guess that I actually don't trust you guys, but it's not your fault. It's mine. I don't think I'll ever learn to trust again. If I don't trust you, then I can't take something from you."

Clint nodded slowly. Believe it or not, he did understand. He wasn't going to get mad that Tony didn't trust him because, really, why should he? He'd just have to prove to Tony that he wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm sorry, Tony," Clint whispered, just loud enough for Tony to hear him.

"Please, don't tell anyone. You're the only person I've ever told, not even Pepper or Rhodey. I need you to promise me that you won't tell anyone," he whispered back.

"I promise," he breathed.

"Good. Now, I have work to do. Get out," he dismissed with a sniff. This time, Clint didn't argue. He stood and approached the door. When he was in the doorway, he turned around, searching Tony from head to toe. Tony was shaking still, but not quite as much as he was earlier. His usually clear and sparkling eyes were dull and haggard. His posture was rigid.

"We're all here to stay, Tony."

And for the first time in four days, Tony smiled.

* * *

**So, I went against greektsik13's advice and wrote an abusive story. I just felt drawn to the idea once it was stuck in my head. Not to worry, though, I'm writing that story that we were talking about, greektsik13. Anyway, did you guys like it? I know it was somewhat dark, but for some reason, I felt almost proud. I would enjoy the reviews, if you could find it in your heart. I enjoy criticism, also. Thanks for reading.**

**Starkanium**


	2. Chapter 2

**Broken Glass Chapter 2**

**A/N: Hey guys! I know I haven't posted in a while, but I just got home from a two week vacation at the beach with my family. Anyway, I'm not really sure of where this update will bring or where this story is headed but someone convinced me to continue. So, I am. I would love it if someone would PM me and throw around some ideas with me, or even just review with a good idea. Just saying. Anyway, continue with the reading.**

Tony watched Clint's back as he retreated down the hallway. He couldn't believe that he'd just opened up that easily. If anyone asked, he'd blame it on the exhaustion. Either way, he felt as if he'd just betrayed himself. That was something that was meant to be brought to the grave with him, not just throw it around out in the open. Well, he didn't necessarily throw it out in the open, but it sure felt like he did.

He let out a frustrated sigh. Maybe Clint was right, he needed to eat. There was no way in hell that he was going to eat that damned sandwich, so he had to go upstairs if he really was going to eat. He stood up, albeit shakily, and started for the lab door. He quickly told Jarvis to save everything for him over his shoulder.

He exited the lab and slowly trudged up to the kitchen. He was greeted with the whole team (except for Thor, having returned to Asgard for the time being) sitting at the table, talking to each other in hushed voices, concern etched on their faces.

"I'm just grabbing something to eat," Tony started. "You can continue talking about me once I leave in private, don't worry," he added with a snort.

"We weren't talking about you, Tony," Steve tried. He was a terrible liar.

"Uh huh," Tony mumbled. He continued his journey through the kitchen quickly, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. He could feel the four pairs of eyes following his every move. He hastily turned on the coffee machine, hearing the familiar rumble as it started. The sound made the awkward silence a little more bearable.

"Tony, we need to talk," Bruce began. "We're concerned about your health. You stay down in the lab for way too long without eating, drinking, or sleeping. We can't allow you to keep doing this to yourself."

That made Tony laugh. He turned from his position by the counter and faced his team.

"I thought you weren't talking about me." He smirked and Steve blushed in response. "Anyway, that's duly noted. Now, if you'll excuse me…" he trailed off. He pulled the freshly brewed coffee pot from the machine and poured out a mug of the scalding liquid. He picked up the mug and briskly headed for the exit of the kitchen. He didn't bother waste any more time in the kitchen with his team, so he decided to skip on that food that he came up in the first place to get.

"We know something happened down there," Natasha said.

That made Tony stop in his tracks. Clint couldn't have already betrayed him, could he? Tony should have known better than to spill out his heart to some assassin that he didn't even trust.

Tony didn't bother to turn around. He just stood there, body tense. The silence was killing him.

"Will you please sit down so we can talk about this?"

Damn, they really did know. He was screwed.

"I'd rather not," he replied as nonchalantly as he could.

"Tony, sit your ass down or I'll do it for you." Of course Natasha would threaten him.

"Yeah, because that will really convince me to come and open up to you, Nat. Just leave me alone, I'm fine, you're fine, therefore we're all happy. Just let it go." He continued through the rest of the kitchen with long strides.

He was about two steps away from the door when Natasha's faint footsteps sounded from directly behind him. He ducked, ready for her attack. Every time she ever ambushed him, she would always aim for either a headlock or grabbing his ear. This time he was prepared.

Sure enough, Natasha's predictable move was futile. She went to wrap an arm around Tony's neck but met nothing but air.

Tony stealthily spun around, one leg out. Natasha's legs were swept from beneath her and she fell to the tiled floor.

"Leave me _alone_," he reiterated. "I am _fine." _He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, ignoring the looks of awe that everyone, including Natasha, wore on their faces.

"_Well, that did not go as expected," _Tony thought. And fuck, that scene probably just made them all believe that he was a crazy psychopath that needed to be locked up in a padded room for the rest of his life. It really didn't help matters.

He walked through the tower mindlessly, not really having a destination. He was going to return to the lab originally, but after what happened in the kitchen, he really just wanted to go climb under a rock and die peacefully. Of course, that didn't seem like the appropriate thing to do, so he decided against it. Where would he find a rock big enough to crush him instantly, anyway? So, that option was out.

A more practical idea came to mind. He could just go camp out on some floor that was visited rarely and hide in a dark closet. That was just as good as crawling under a rock, right? He headed for the 39th floor after he deemed it a random enough number that certainly wouldn't be searched for first.

"Jarvis," Tony called out. "Don't tell the team where I am if they ask. I'm not really in the talking mood."

"As you wish, Sir," the AI replied obediently.

Tony stepped into the elevator, clicking the 39th floor button. There was a soft ding at every floor until he reached his destination. He walked out of the elevator and headed for the first door that he saw.

"Sir, Pepper Potts is on the phone. She wishes to speak to you," Jarvis informed Tony.

"Ah, Pepper. Let her through," Tony told him.

"Tony Stark! What is wrong with you?" Pepper asked. She sounded enraged, and for what, Tony did not know. "If I leave you alone for two seconds, you should be able to behave yourself."

"Pep, may I ask what I did this time?" Tony asked, genuinely confused. She didn't know about the whole team thing, did she?

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! Natasha just called me saying that you were sitting in the lab for days without eating or sleeping! As soon as Clint went down to check on you, he came up practically traumatized from whatever you did to him. He said that he couldn't tell them what happened, though. And then she told me that they were trying to talk to you and you completely just drop kicked her! Please, tell me that none of this is true and you guys are just trying to make me mad." Pepper was rambling. She only rambled when she was either a) completely pissed, or b) worried. Tony was leaning toward the former.

"Peps, you're overreacting. I just need some time alone, is all. Clint interrupted me and I just yelled at him. He certainly wouldn't be traumatized by that and the last I saw him, he didn't look traumatized. Natasha was probably just exaggerating. It's okay. I have to go now, bye," he concluded quickly.

"Wait!" Pepper shrieked. "Jarvis, where is Tony currently?"

Tony didn't realize what Pepper was doing until it was too late.

"Mr. Stark is currently on the 39th floor, Ms. Potts."

Damn.

"Thank you, Jarvis. Goodbye Tony." The line was cut.

At that point, Tony knew there was no use in just running again. Pepper was going to tell the team exactly where he was and it was going to be too late for him.

Sure enough, the team sped through the elevator doors on the 39th floor only a moment later.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Bruce yelled. His eyes flashed green for a second.

"Tony, we really are concerned about you. Let us help you, please. Something's obviously bothering you. You even managed to get Clint spooked, so we know that something happened down there. He wouldn't tell us anything, though, despite our pleas. We need you to talk to us," Steve told him in a smooth voice. It seemed that he was genuinely worried.

"There's nothing to talk about. Nothing's going on." It was a terrible lie, but he didn't know what else to say. He really didn't want the team to know about the whole dad issues thing. That was his to know and no one else.

It was the seventeenth anniversary of his parents' death. That's why he was so shaken up about it. Usually, he didn't even ponder the idea of his parents after the first year of their death, but on every anniversary, he couldn't help but relive the days where Howard was abusive.

And he just really couldn't help it. If he could, he would've forgotten about it long ago, but he just couldn't erase the memories from his mind and he never would.

"Sometimes I wonder if Howard would be able to deal with you, Tony," Steve whispered. It was said quietly, but not inaudibly.

"It's always about Howard, isn't it, Cap? He wasn't the saint that you remember. He was a scumbag that had no time other than for himself and you," Tony spat. "He was just a drunken freak that pretended he was a great person with a perfect family. The idea that you have of Howard couldn't be further off."

If Steve was taken aback by Tony's outburst, he didn't show it.

"Tony," he murmured softly. "Tell us what's wrong."

And he did.

**Meh? How'd it work out for you guys. Good? Bad? Would you rather rip all your hair out slowly than read this again? I dunno, you tell me. Think I should continue? I dunno, you tell me. Would anyone read this if I did continue? I dunno, you tell me. I'm not sure how this turned out, so please tell me what you thought about it. I'd appreciate it a lot. My birthday's coming up in 12 days, (that's right, big 14, I will officially be a real teenager) so reviews could be my early birthday present. I mean, if you wouldn't mind. Anyway, thanks for reading and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Broken Glass Chapter 3**

**Well, I got enough positive feedback for me to continue. (It doesn't take much, anyway.) So, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

"When I was a kid, Howard abused me," Tony started. A collective gasp escaped the team's lips, but he just ignored them. "He'd break alcohol bottles and give them to me, threatening me to take them or he'd go and hurt my mom, so I took them. He'd make me squeeze my hands together so the glass cut into them. I'd get stitched up and the cycle would continue," he ended with a sigh. He decided a shortened version would be better than the whole entire story that he'd described to Clint.

"Tony, we didn't know…" Natasha said sadly.

Tony nodded. "Guess that concludes story time, kiddies. I'm gonna go grab something to eat. _Alone. _I'll talk to you all tomorrow." Tony stood and walked over to the elevator, disappearing behind the doors.

Tony travelled down to the kitchen in silence, trying to forget the fact that he just told the team one of the biggest secrets that he has. Or, _had, _at least. It wasn't so much of a secret at that point and he hated himself for spilling it.

The elevator abruptly stopped and Tony stepped out into room. He walked straight to the kitchen and grabbed a yogurt from the fridge. He sat down at the table and started eating. As soon as he finished, he started feeling around his pockets in search for his phone. It didn't take him long to realize that it wasn't there.

"Jarvis, can you pull up the feed of the 39th floor? I think I might've left my phone up there," Tony said.

"Of course, sir," the AI responded. A live stream of the 39th floor was pulled up in front of him out of thin air.

Sure enough, the phone was sitting on the table right next to the team. "Ah hah. There it is," Tony whispered to himself. Just as he was about to close the video, screaming coming from Bruce caught his attention.

"What, do you think Tony lied about all of this as some sort of joke?" Bruce boomed with outrage. "He told me that Howard spent every sober second of his life telling Tony that he would never be as good as good ol' Captain America. He told me that he was always away searching for you and if he was home, he'd be telling Tony to fuck off so he could have peace and quiet to try and find Captain America. Apparently, as we just learned, whenever Howard really was home and drunk, he'd abuse Tony. Cap, I know that you couldn't do anything to help it, but you really shouldn't be blaming it on anyone but yourself. Tony's father loved you more than he loved his own son. Don't you _dare_ say that Tony was making it all up for the fun of it," Bruce growled. His eyes were flashing green and his breathing was heavy.

Steve stared at Bruce, shock evident in his eyes. That shock quickly turned into anger, pure and simple.

"You honestly think this was my fault? Do you think I should've kept that plane out of the water and brought the whole world down with me? I can't believe that you would blame all of this on me. I _saved the world,_ Bruce, and if one person lost his childhood in the midst, so be it. One sacrifice is a small price to pay for the earth," Steve retorted quickly. As soon as it left his lips, though, he knew he was wrong. He knew that he had gone too far, crossed the line. He didn't know what came over him. He was always polite and tried to be the bigger man in every situation he came across. Apparently that didn't apply to this specific one.

"I- I'm sorry… I didn't mean…" Steve stammered. A bright blush crept up his neck and seeped onto his face.

"I'm going to bed. I'll talk to you all later," Bruce said through tightly clenched teeth.

"Yeah, me too," Natasha muttered.

"Agreed," said Clint.

All three of them stood and walked to the elevator, leaving a gaping Steve in their wake.

Tony quickly pinched the video, effectively shrinking it down to about the size of an apple. He tossed it to the side and it disappeared. He placed his elbows on the table with a heavy thud and buried his face in his hands. A ding from the elevator sounded behind him. He scrubbed his hands through his hair a few times then swiveled his chair around to look at the elevator doors.

"Hey," Clint greeted as he stepped into the kitchen. Natasha and Bruce followed closely after.

"Hi," Tony replied, plastering a fake smile on his face. Usually, Tony cursed the fact that he was a world-renowned man. It usually meant that he couldn't go out in public or couldn't make one mistake because he would be called out on it. Everything he did came back to bite him in the ass because of it. The one good thing that ever came out of being famous was the faking. He knew that he could smile his way through anything and everyone would believe it. Being popular had a few perks, at least.

"We were about to go to bed, but we wanted to make sure you actually ate first. I guess it looks like you did," Natasha said. "You really should eat more than just a yogurt, though. You haven't eaten in a while."

"I'm not hungry, though," Tony pouted.

"You still have to eat," Bruce piped up. "Please." That was the first time that Tony looked at Bruce since they entered the kitchen. He looked like he was ready to hulk out. His hair was disheveled, chest heaving up and down at an unsteady pace, and his stance was defensive.

"Okay," Tony agreed simply. He would rather not get Bruce even more riled up with his needless arguing. "You guys can just go to bed, that's where I'm headed. I'll see you tomorrow." Tony stood much faster than needed and got a wicked head rush. He nearly toppled over and had to grab the kitchen table to steady himself.

"Whoa, Tony, you okay there?" Clint said, concern etched into his features.

"Yeah, just tired. See you tomorrow," Tony muttered. He pushed past the three and got in the elevator.

Tony quickly pulled his tee shirt off and got into bed as soon as he was safely inside his room. His body was begging him to get some much needed sleep, but his mind had a different idea. He couldn't keep Cap's words from ringing through his head. "If one person lost his childhood in the midst, so be it." Sure, for the price of the world, one life wasn't such a bad price. It was, however, a little upsetting to know that Steve really didn't care for him at all. It really shouldn't have bothered him at all, really, because he hated Captain America and Captain America hated him. So why did the idea of Cap not caring about him make him so mad?

Maybe because it meant he was a failure. Howard was always telling him of the great Captain America that was saving lives left and right and how he should be more like him. Tony had spent his whole life trying to impress Howard and live up to his standards, not that he ever accomplished that goal. Maybe he thought that if he could get Cap's approval, it would be just like having Howard's approval. When he was a kid growing up, that was all he wanted. He wanted his father to actually care about him and be proud of him like any other normal father. It didn't take long for him to grow out of that and turn the longing into hatred toward the man. There must've been some part of him that still longed for his father's love somewhere bubbling underneath the surface and he thought that if he managed to get Cap's approval, it would be the same as getting his father's approval. And, damn, did it _hurt. _He had two chances and he blew them both.

He didn't know when he managed to fall asleep, but the next thing he knew, he was being awakened by the bright sunlight that filtered through the windows. He slowly crawled out of his bed and went downstairs.

"Morning, Tony," Steve greeted him as he entered the shared kitchen.

"Cap," Tony replied coldly. Steve shot him a confused and completely innocent look but didn't comment on it.

"Hey, I was thinking that we should go get shawarma for dinner tonight. Do you want to come?" Steve asked cheerily.

"Not today, I'm busy."

"Oh, maybe we could go tomorrow. I mean, if you're not busy then."

"I'm not sure. I'll let you know when I get a chance." Tony grabbed some leftover Chinese from the fridge and headed straight for the lab without looking back. That didn't mean he missed the shocked look on Cap's face on the way by, though.

Tony stayed down in the lab for over four hours before anyone tried to contact him.

"Tony, we have a mission. Suit up, we'll meet you outside with the details," Natasha's voice sounded over the intercom.

The last thing that Tony wanted to do at that moment was go and kill some alien monster things, but he obliged to Natasha's orders. He was the last to make it outside.

"We've got some kind of giant jelly monster that we have to finish downtown. We'll find out more about it there and think of a plan," Steve said. Everyone nodded their heads and boarded the nearby quinjet.

They arrived at their destination not even two minutes later to find a two-story tall purple monster. It was a giant, translucent blob of gooey looking jelly with a drooping face.

"Looks easy enough," Clint murmured, all focus on the monster. He fired an explosive missile at the monster's chest. The missile exploded, but the goop that the monster was made out of only absorbed the explosion.

"Well, shit," Tony said with a roll of his eyes.

**By the way, sorry it took so long to post this. I got my first case of writer's block when I tried to write this but I have people for ideas ;) Please tell me what you think about it. I enjoy both criticism and tips. By the way, go check out my friend musicmixer08's new story. S/he's working really hard on it and they need some readers!**


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